As the family sat down for their evening meal
Around the kitchen table
The mother poured milk for her little girl
And set it down before her.

They shared with each other the dayís events
As each had gone their way.
The father told of all the hay heíd cut
And how hot it had been that day.

"I had to lie down for a little while,"
The mother softly spoke.
"Iím sure it was the heat," she said,
"Hoeing the garden was hard work."

"Did you enjoy your day, little one?"
The father asked his daughter.
"Oh yes, Daddy," she sweetly smiled.
Her eyes couldnít shine much brighter.

"I picked up some grain out in the barn
That had fallen from the bin.
I hope you donít mind, it wasnít much.
I fed it to my birdie friends.

And Mama let me have the lettuce
She had thinned out of the garden.
I took it down beside the brook
And gave it to the bunnies."

Her daddy smiled and wondered
At the heart of one so small,
The care and concern for her "critters",
She loved them one and all.

But as the child continued,
Her fatherís expression changed.
A worried look came into his eyes,
A frown upon his face.

Fear gripped his heart at the childís next words,
His knuckles went white through his tan.
The questioning look he gave his wife
Made her reach out for his hand.

"A man came down to the brook today,"
The little girl chattered on,
"He stayed for awhile and watched me play,
Before he travelled on.

He must have come from far away,
His clothes were not like ours.
His pants and shirt were white as could be,
And his hair was very long.

I sang and danced in the sun," she said.
"All the butterflies danced with me.
The grass was soft underneath my feet
The wildflowers bloomed so pretty.

I jumped and twirled and laughed out loud,
The frogs by the brook laughed too.
The crickets chirped, the birds all sang,
I felt so very happy.

I stopped to catch my breath, you know,
And it was then that he reached toward me.
He pulled me close to him just then,
And I sat down right beside him."

"Who was this man?" her father cried,
He could stay silent no longer.
"What did he mean by coming here
To touch my little daughter?"

"How could you let her go alone?
She has no fear of danger!"
He paced the floor and clenched his fists.
His face grew red with anger.

"Surely he was up to no good!" said he,
His distress had taken over.
But the hand of his wife upon his arm
Made him take his seat beside her.

Her face was calm, she was very quiet
As she sat intently listening.
"Let the child go on," she said to him,
And her eyes were softly glistening.

"Oh Daddy, I think youíd like this man,
He seemed so nice to me.
The animals came right up to him,
To see and hear, like me.

He was very quiet and gentle
As we rested on the sand.
A white bird came to sit near him,
Like the gray ones on our land.

He stroked my hair and smiled at me,
And then I saw his hand.
I felt like crying when I saw,
He had hurt them both somehow.

I asked him how it happened,
But he just patted me on my brow.
He said it happened long ago,
He didnít say just how.

He said they didnít hurt anymore
And that I shouldnít fret.
They were only the scars leftover
From settling an old, old debt.

The fatherís throat was getting tight,
He tried, but couldnít speak.
His eyes filled up, he hung his head,
And a tear rolled down his cheek.

His daughter never noticed,
As she babbled on with joy.
This strangerís visit to the little girl
Had been better than any toy.

"I thought I might have met him once,
I seemed to recognize
The wonderful way he looked at me,
With such kindness in his eyes.

He seemed to know all about me,
Though Iím sure I never said
A word about our family,
And yet he told me instead.

He said he was a friend of yours,"
She turned toward her mother.
"He said you called him earlier
To ask him for a favor.

He told me a message to give to you,
Which I didnít understand myself,
He said all the angels were busy today,
So he decided to come himself.

Now isnít that the strangest thing
For anyone to say?"
Her mother smiled at her daughter then,
But her gaze seemed far away.

"You wouldnít think it strange, my dear,
If you had heard me pray,
When I felt weak and couldnít go
To the brook with you today.

I knew that I must rest a bit,
I was weary to the bone.
I asked for an angel to accompany you
So you wouldnít be alone."

"Was he your friend then, Mama?
The one youíre always talking to?
The one that you call Lord,
That goes everywhere with you?"

"I believe it was," said her mother then.
"I believe it too!" gasped her dad.
"Iím glad he is my friend," she said,
"Heís the best friend Iíve ever had."

The kitchen light had a soft, warm glow
That evening as they ate.
The father asked, "Could I meet your friend?
If you think itís not too late?

Iíd like to thank him for keeping watch
Over our little one, this time.
Do you think he would be interested
In being a friend of mine?"

"Just ask him," whispered the mother,
For I know heís very near."
So with his eyes turned up toward heaven,
He said a little prayer.

He spoke the words so soft and low,
But the Lord heard every one.
The mother bowed her head in thanks.
A new friendship had begun.

A mother had prayed for an angel, it seemed
The prayer had been short and easy.
How could she know that on that day
All the angels would be busy?

Copyright © 2002 Renee Caldwell

All Rights Reserved,
Used With Permission

Please email Renee Caldwell to
request permission to use
'All The Angels Were Busy'

My sincere thanks Rene for sending me this wonderful
poem to display on my website.

If your heart is touched as mine is when I read
'All The Angels Were Busy',
please email Renee and let her know you enjoyed
her very touching and inspirational poetry.


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Painting used 'Living Water' - by Roger Loveless.

Artwork is used courtesy of Christ Centered Art

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Christ Centered Art.